


My Only Friend

by DonovanS



Series: J. Moriarty (Post Reichenbach Mormor) [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brain Injury, Fighting, M/M, Post Reichenbach, day in the life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonovanS/pseuds/DonovanS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You consider me a friend.” He finally said, looking up at Sebastian</p><p>with a purposeful neutrality.</p><p>The sniper nodded.</p><p>“That’s a terrible disadvantage for you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Only Friend

“Sebastian, I want attention.” Jim whined, body sprawled across the sofa.

He’d commandeered it from his sniper several minutes earlier, leaving Sebastian to sit on the floor.

“Jim, I’m kinda doin’ stuff right now.” Sebastian said in reply,

cross-legged and engaged in a battle against some digitally rendered

foe on the big screen in front of them.

Moriarty simply raised an eyebrow at him, looking annoyed and

frustrated.

“Video games are ‘something?’”

“Enjoying my break is something, yeah. I can’t work twenty four/seven

like you, Jim. I need a break. Levity.”

A scream rang out from the screen along the announcement ’YOU HAVE STARTLED THE WITCH but Sebastian could hear Jim huff even through it.

He let out an exasperated sigh before stretching out even more on the sofa, arms above his head.

Moran counted the seconds before-

“Sebastian, I am bored. You are boring. Pay attENTION to what I AM TELLING YOU.”

Goddammit. 

Sebastian rubbed his eyes, digging his fingers into his eyelids.

“Breaks over, yeah?”

Resigning himself to defeat, the sniper tossed his controller onto the

coffee table and flicked the remote back to cable. Some cartoon was

playing on whatever channel Jim had been watching prior, something

about a brother and sister solving mysteries or something. Seb

didn’t pay much attention to what Jim watched when he was bored.

“Well, uh…” the sniper chewed his lip and rubbed the back of his

neck. “What uh…what do you wanna do?”

Jim stared at him, still stretched out and playing with his watchband

absent-mindedly.

“What if just want to sit here and watch Gravity Falls?”

Sebastian nodded. “Okay. I guess that’s fine. Is that what this is?”

Jim glared.

“No, I want to go out. Lets go out.”

“Okay, where?”

“Park.”

“Okay.”

“No. I’ve changed my mind, I want to go out to eat.”

“Okay, uh, where’d you put your chair?”

“Carry me.”

“Carry you?”

“Yes.”

“To a restaurant? Which one?”

“Thai.”

“Um, maybe if its close but-“

Jim made an angry growling sound, sitting up and slamming a fist into the arm rest.

“STOP DOING THAT!” He screamed, throwing one of the throw pillows at him. “STOP AGREEING WITH ME.”

Sebastian covered his confusion rather well with outright anger.

“What the fuck do you mean stop agreeing with you?!” He snapped back, getting to his feet. “I’m trying to make you fucking happy you needy git!”

“I don’t need your bloody CHARITY!” Jim snapped back, attempting to

stand up and immediately failing, grabbing Sebastian’s forearms for

support.

They stared awkwardly at each other as the larger man helped his boss

stay upright.

“Not doin’ it out’ve sympathy, genius.” He replied, shoving Jim back onto

the sofa behind him. He landed on his ass, legs limp and useless.

“Then why do you do it?” Jim’s voice was flooded with the same

suspicion he used to give one of his men before having Sebastian shoot

them dead in the face.

Something about that realization made Colonel Moran’s chest hurt, like something was pulling and twisting the muscles beneath his ribs.

“Jim…for the love of Christ, Jim, are you serious right now?!”

He rubbed his temples, trying his hardest not to continue this pointless argument with the bad tempered madman.

He looked back at the man and could’ve sworn Jim Moriarty was on the verge of tears until he realized it was just his eyes watering. A year being bedridden had caused his muscles to atrophy, ruining most of what the bullet hadn’t. Standing must have hurt more than he was letting on.

“…You okay?” Moran dropped to his knees instinctively as he said it, resting a hand on his boss’ leg. He was a bodyguard, it was his job to make sure his boss safe, right?

“Just go away Moran, I don’t need your help.”

Sebastian sighed. He’d never been good with words. Guns yeah, ordering lowly ‘sheeple’ around yeah, fuck, poaching tigers even yeah.

But words?

Shit.

“Fucking Hell boss…” The words were mumbled, dripping with a mix of

exhaustion and impatience. “You…for a genius you really are an idiot

sometimes.”

The look on Jim’s face would’ve made a lesser man’s blood run cold but

Sebastian was used to it, he’d gotten it almost daily since he’d

picked his boss up from the hospital. His veins already ran with ice most of the time anyway, it was part of his job description. 

“Jim…I don’t do this shit for you out’ve fucking sympathy. Fuck,

boss, half the time I want to pick your whiny ass up and hurl you off

the second story. I put up with it ‘cause…I dunno, you’re worth

putting up with that shit sometimes…”

“Yes, whatever would you do without my big, battered brain?” Jim

sneered and rolled his eyes.

“Oh stuff it Jim, honestly.” Sebastian continued, resting his forehead on Moriarty’s knee. “You’re brains great, it’s hot shit really, but its not why I put up with ‘Moran, get my shoes!’ or ‘Moran, this game is terrible throw it out’ or ‘Moran, carry me to the restaurant!’”

 

He took a moment to rub his eyes and grind his teeth, the words

fighting him every step of the way as he got back to his feet.

“Jim, you're the closest thing to a friend I have. You're a twisted,

fucked-up little freak but God help me I would put up with anything I

was handed if it kept you happy! I’d gut a man in our fucking bathtub

to make you smile, I fuck I might’ve already done that! I've lost

track of our body count at this point!

Looking down, Jim’s expression had changed completely, from one of

sarcasm and disbelief to a blank, vacant expression.

Sebastian had once joked about it being Jim’s ‘loading screen’ because

he only wore it when he learned something new, keeping neutral while

he shifted through everything he’d been told and trying to determine

its validity.

“You consider me a friend.” He finally said, looking up at Sebastian

with a purposeful neutrality.

The sniper nodded.

“That’s a terrible disadvantage for you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Sebastian shrugged his shoulders.

“S’why you’re the boss ‘n not me I suppose.”

Jim frowned, eyes once more narrowed at the man. He’d never seen

Sebastian Moran show any emotion other than mild annoyance and pure

euphoria and that was reserved solely for a hit. The thrill of the

hunt, of stopping a heart, the sick pleasure of showing up in Jim’s

office with more than just metaphorical blood on his hands.

That had always seemed the only thing that brought pleasure to his sniper.

But now, here he was, playing the bleeding heart. Bleeding for

Jim….Oh, Jim liked that.

“I could exploit that weakness.”

“You always do.” Sebastian chuckled and Jim grinned up at him, looking much less agitated. 

“You still wanna go for Thai food?” 

“Yes, and you can still carry me. You know, since we’re such good _friends.”_


End file.
